


A Decade in the Making

by hanasuz



Series: War & Reminisces: The Jean Kirschtein Chronicles [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jeankasa Week, Miscommunication, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), POV Jean Kirstein, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, jeankasa - Freeform, jeanmika
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23077051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanasuz/pseuds/hanasuz
Summary: A Jean and Mikasa love story.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein
Series: War & Reminisces: The Jean Kirschtein Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658563
Comments: 80
Kudos: 67





	1. Learning to Love Him

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a post-apocalyptic, in-universe world. Eren sacrificed his life by removing the ability of Eldians to titanize, in exchange for the world’s mercy. Thanks to the efforts of Magath, who had become their great champion, Paradis is now an independent nation-state with few allies and numerous enemies. Before Eren died he managed to erase some of the memories of those with Eldian blood--about half the inhabitants on the planet--making them less hostile toward Eldians. There are no longer titans in the world, although the last of the Ackermann clan have retained their titan-in-human-form abilities. They, however, will no longer be able to pass these on to their descendants. The island now struggles to modernize, defend itself from its enemies using conventional military power, and become a member of the Nations League. 
> 
> In the forefront of the struggle are Jean Kirschtein, Mikasa Ackermann, Levi Ackermann, Hange Zoe, Historia Reiss and Armin Arlert. 
> 
> These are excerpts from a fanfic novela I started writing two years ago titled "War and Reminisces: The Jean Kirschtein Chronicles", with Jean as the main character, detailing his adventures in a post-titan, post-Eren world, something like a continuation of the manga after it’s wrapped up. It assumes, of course, that Jean and the gang are alive. IRL's tragic so I’ve basically given these beloved characters a happy life. The scenes set within canonverse are flashbacks. 
> 
> The way things are going I’ll never get around to finishing the novela, so I decided to publish the parts I’ve written so far. My small literary offering to the precious few jeankasa/jeanmika shippers out there. 
> 
> This piece is simultaneously published in my smartphone blog (hanasblog.beverlyclaire.com), thus the short chapters.

“I can’t wear this much ruffles, Hitch, I’ll look silly!” Mikasa protested as she checked herself out in the mirror. 

“Oh nonsense, girl, they’re all the rage. And if your fellow’s from the continent then he’ll expect nothing less. Have you seen how the women there dress? We’ll look like plain dowdy sparrows next to them if we don’t keep up!” Hitch fluffed up the ruffles on the blouse, adjusting here and there. “There, see, you look much more feminine!”

Mikasa had to admit she was right. Her breasts looked two cup sizes larger, making her already trim waist look even narrower. She’d refused to wear a corset, but her firm bubble butt, toned from years of military training, did their part in holding up the skirts. _I suppose I don’t look too bad_ , she thought. The continental fashion Hitch talked about was something else, though, and made her a just a tad bit worried. It was conservative fashion, neat and covering with long skirts, long sleeves, high collars and gloves, but with rich details like ribbons and ruffles and buttons and lace. She’d seen the pictures in the magazines at the city library. In spring and summer the dress colors were sweet pastels with matching hat and umbrella. It was the silhouette that concerned her the most: continental women wore S-bend corsets that unnaturally thrust the chest forward and forced the hips backward. Like pouter pigeons, Mikasa had thought as she flipped through the fashion publications. She hoped that the man she wanted to meet at the port this afternoon did not come to believe that was what a woman should be shaped like. 

She turned sideways to check out her profile. She’d always wished for bigger breasts--the ones she had stayed out of the way during combat, but in a dress they made her wish for more. Today Hitch’s styling made everything look just right. But she couldn’t help worry about something. “Don’t you think it’s kind of faking it, though? I mean, if the guy undresses you won’t he be disappointed?” She blushed at what she’d been thinking.

“You silly innocent!” Hitch tittered. “By the time you reach that stage the guy no longer cares what you look like!” The fashionable blonde pushed a stool by her feet. “Sit and I’ll do your hair. I’m good at doing the fluffy updo,” she said with a hint of pride.

 _Oh no, not that updo!_ Mikasa balked. She’d seen that in the magazines, too, and on the upper crust, socialite, noblewomen on the island. It had the hair piled up high on the head in a pompadour, with a waterfall of curls. Mikasa protested, “Oh Hitch, you’re sweet and I do thank you for your kindness, but please let my hair be! He...he likes it long and falling over my shoulders…”

“Ugh! He must be ancient then! At least let me do a half up and curl the ends,” the sartorial police officer insisted. 

At the port, among the crowd of women waiting for the ships’ crews and passengers to disembark, Mikasa thanked the gods she let Hitch talk her into dressing up, talk her into the fancy blouse and matching hat and gloves and the works. Her usual off duty clothes consisting of a simple white long-sleeved blouse with long, dark grey skirt would have looked incredibly dull among the ladies all dressed up and chattering excitedly as they watched the seamen and sailors come ashore. She thanked her lucky stars she and Hitch had a chance encounter at the florist’s this morning. Mikasa was there picking out a welcome bouquet; Hitch, who was married and with a baby daughter and on leave from the Military Police, also had taken the Frīgedæg off and was choosing flowers to decorate her house for some visiting relatives from her husband’s side. 

“You’re meeting your fellow at the port wearing that?” Hitch had given Mikasa’s basic white-and-grey outfit a once over and wrinkled her nose in disapproval. The blonde had prevailed upon the raven-haired soldier to let her be dressed up. “Think of me as the fashion police,” Hitch had said with confidence as she put together an outfit. “Men are visual creatures. You say you haven’t seen your fellow in a year. Make his eyes pop out! Make him drool! And the next time he’s on a ship, it’ll be with you on your honeymoon!” 

Mikasa blushed as she recalled their conversation. It’s been a while since she’d gone out to the southern port. It was the largest on the island, always crowded and brimming with life. Today was especially lively, with three merchant vessels and one Navy ship at anchor. She listened to the sights and sounds of the island’s busiest port. It was nice to have a change of scenery, especially after a long grieving process. 

For a whole year Mikasa grieved the loss of Eren. During the day she did her part as a soldier and officer, working to build the new Royal Army, and at night she retired to her room in the officers’ barracks to weep over the pain of losing what had been her reason for living. It was the sheer amount of work that kept her going. They overhauled the military to modernize it, and along with the structural changes they had to acquire and master new weapons. Mikasa stood at the forefront because she was the fastest learner--soon she was training both the infantry directly along with the instructor corps.

Her mind drifted off to her friends, wondering when she’ll see them again. Like her it was the sheer amount of work that kept everyone going. 

Armin was now head of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and their de facto Ambassador to the world, and he was gone for great lengths of time trying to negotiate diplomatic relations with whatever country that took pity on them and deigned to negotiate with them. 

Levi formed the Special Forces initially to protect Paradian merchant ships from pirates; he was busy training his operators while fighting in the front lines of the battle against privateers. 

Hange was doing what she had always doing, but now on an unprecedented scale never before seen in their history: she was building ice burst stone-run engines while playing catch up with the rest of the world creating industrial grade weapons. She was also Marshall of the Royal Air Force, which was actually in name only because they didn’t have any decent fleet yet. 

Like Hange, Jean was also head of an organization in name only: he was Admiral of the Fleet of the Paradian Royal Navy. They had managed to acquire a few ships but had no real fleet to speak of; Jean and his crew shuttled between the neighboring nation of Noblain learning the ropes of a modern navy while at Paradis he oversaw the building of a fleet from scratch. 

All of them groped their way in the dark, scrabbling and hustling until they collapsed in sheer exhaustion. And then they got up and went at it again; survival demanded it. The former members of the Survey Corps kept up and went above and beyond the call of duty. It was a time of great upheaval. 

But the upheaval was not just on a national scale. Upheavals of the heart also happened on an individual level. It was Mikasa who was hit the hardest.

All the time he was in Noblain Jean had written her a letter every week. It was usually just a page or two, talking mostly about work yet always asking how she was and containing anecdotes about Noblain and life at sea and miscellaneous Navy stuff. They were friendly letters reminding her that he cared for her and was there when she needed him. She wrote back, usually about her difficulties training others who were not up to Ackermann standards, meaning virtually everyone. She was struggling to understand what it was like not to be a supersoldier. Jean had advised her: “Take your strength, divide by ten. Take your speed, divide by a hundred. Take your hypervigilant, hyperaware state and water it down to twenty percent. That is the ordinary soldier. For illustration purposes only (but one that you’ll like, I reckon): Take Levi Ackermann and chop him up into five hundred pieces; each piece is the equivalent of one ordinary soldier.” For her, it was the best advice she’d received and undoubtedly helped her become a better instructor.

Mikasa was wrenched from her reverie as her ears took in the chatter of the women around her. 

“That man over there, the tall one! Look at him! Gods, he’s such a hottie!” Two women, a brunette and a redhead about the same age as her were giggling and pointing at a man by the docks. 

Her gaze followed where they were pointing. A tall, well-built man with ash blonde hair in a navy blue uniform was giving directions. It was Jean Kirschtein. Her heart skipped a bit. There he was, the man she wanted to give a surprise welcome to at the port. 

_He’s not just some man_ , Mikasa wanted to tell them. _He’s Jean. My Jean._ As she watched him work her mind couldn’t help traveling back many years, all the nine years they’d known each other. 

When she trained the troops she’d remembered her own days as a soldier in training, and inevitably she’d remember Jean. She graduated top of her class; of course she was the best among them: she was an Ackermann. Ranked below her were four titan shifters: Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Eren. Jean came in sixth, in effect making him the best ordinary human in the 104th cadet corps. But despite being the smartest and strongest, the adolescent Jean was brash, cocky, brutally frank and pretty much insufferable. It was amazing how he grew from this annoying boy to a responsible leader with whom others have willingly entrusted their lives. 

As a boy he was both naive and realistic, with an abrasive personality. But from the start he genuinely cared for his comrades, including Eren whom he was antagonistic to from the very beginning. 

It was Jean who convinced the 104th cadets to join her in the Battle of Trost. She learned about it from Armin. “Are we going to let a comrade fight alone?” he had demanded. He led the charge as they caught up with her.

He kept a cool head the entire time during the First Battle of Shiganshina, displaying more situational awareness than anyone else. When Sasha and Connie were in tears over having thought they killed Reiner it was Jean who told them to keep their heads. It was also Jean who made Eren stand down, telling him it wasn’t smart to attack yet when the latter wanted to charge upon seeing Armin’s ultimately failed attempt to negotiate with Berthold. What struck Mikasa was that Eren listened to Jean, showing the respect between them even when a lot of the time they postured and came to blows. And more than anything, it was Jean who pointed out to Armin the hole in his plan to retreat to the walls. While everyone was in a panic and ready to blindly follow Armin’s orders, Jean kept his cool and correctly deduced that leading the Colossal Titan to the walls would be tactical suicide, prematurely decimating Erwin’s team. 

When the Survey Corps was trying to save Eren and Historia from the police it was Armin and Jean who disguised as the former two. After the debacle was over Armin told Mikasa everything that happened, how one of the kidnappers, a perverted old man, sexually assaulted “Historia”. Armin was so shook up after the encounter that when Levi ordered him to tie up the leering, panting man in question he was shaking and unable to do it fast enough, annoying the captain. “Step on it,” Levi had barked, unaware of what had just happened. “It’s alright, I got this,” Jean had told Armin, taking over and sparing Armin from having to touch the drooling pervert. 

It was small incidents like this, things the hyper-observant Armin noticed and pointed out to oblivious people like her, that showed Jean’s true colors. Armin had known for a long time: that underneath the cocky veneer was a person who had grown to care deeply about others. It took her awhile to realize that herself.

During the Battle of Liberio when Jean was platoon commander he ordered the soldiers to keep civilian casualties to a minimum. Floch disobeyed, of course, but that moment stayed with her and helped her appreciate the man Jean had grown to be. It was something they both felt strongly about: separating civilians from soldiers. 

Her growing opinion of him was cemented when he refused to have the enemy children Gabi and Falco thrown off the blimp, even after the former had killed Sasha. What good would it do to murder children, he asked the avenging soldier, Floch. It wouldn’t solve anything, Jean had readily pointed out. Mikasa herself had protected Gabi during the knife encounter with Kaya; like Jean she believed it wasn’t the child’s fault she was brainwashed and trained to become a killing machine. 

As the years went by Mikasa noticed, too, how Jean had grown to love Eren, how he went from being mad at and jealous of Eren to standing up for him again and again. While Jean never let Eren off the hook he still tried his best to understand the titan shifter’s motives and _raison d’etre_.

Again and again Jean would make crucial calls, leading the 104th and eventually commanding the Survey Corps before they restructured the military. Now Jean headed the Navy. It’s befitting, Hange had remarked, because a capable naval force was the cornerstone of successful island defense. No one more capable of building it than Jean. 

Mikasa missed him and wanted him back on the island.

She was seeing all this now because for a year he wasn’t around. Absence does make the heart grow fonder; it forced her to re-evaluate everything. The distance did them good, and the different work--she in the Army, he in the Navy--also did them good. Finally she started seeing him in a different light. She was confused about her feelings for him, so when Jean wrote that his year-long training in Noblain was over and he’d be coming back for good, she decided to meet him at the port as a surprise. They’ll finally see each other after a year of being apart. She was sure to find out where things stood between them. 

What could possibly go wrong?


	2. Meet the Rivals

“I’ll bet he’s a stud,” the redhead giggled, admiring the width of his shoulders and the tapering of his hips underneath the Navy officer’s uniform. 

“Sex on legs!” the brunette stated. More giggling.

Again Mikasa was jolted from her reverie. She gazed at Jean, for the first time seeing him through the eyes of other women. He was tall as always, but was now tanned; he’d grown even more handsome, and bigger too. The hair was lighter, the shoulders broader, the muscles more defined. He moved with the grace and confidence of a man who was comfortable in his own skin. It must be all the work at open sea, Mikasa thought, in those finicky ships, the mastery of which required both brains and brawn. Jean’s forte. She remembered how he had always moved well even as a cadet; he had been the best in vertical maneuvering among the ordinary humans in her class.

“It’s the way he walks and carries himself! Like he’s this leader and all. And the other men know it,” the redhead was saying. “I bet he’s good in bed.” 

“Tell me about it! He’s made for fucking, the way he moves, like he does it and everything else well!” exclaimed the brunette.

“A well-hung stallion by the looks of it,” the redhead added salaciously. “I’d go for a ride!”

“I saw him first! I get first dibs!” the brunette countered, giggling.

“A hunk like that, he’s definitely the kind that can easily handle a hot threesome!” the redhead declared to the brunette, both of them grasping each other’s arm and falling into a fit of giggles. 

The two women were speaking in whispers but Mikasa had near bionic ears. She heard every word and was taken aback. She didn’t consider herself to be a prude but then, was that how other women looked at Jean? She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Oh, there’s my brother! Let’s go!” the redhead said, pointing to a group of sailors wearing the white merchant marine uniform. They move away from the crowd to go meet them.

The crowds were slowly dispersing as the dock work was wrapping up and people were out meeting families, friends, colleagues, lovers. Mikasa held the bouquet in her hand, the pushing throngs making her lose sight of Jean. She milled about, waiting for him to get up to the crowded platform so she could finally meet him. 

Jean did go up the platform with his crew, but not in the way Mikasa had imagined. She imagined herself going up to him, he with a surprised but happy look on his face, she giving him the blue bouquet of flowers knowing his favorite color was blue, and then he’d smile at her and tenderly embrace her then they’d walk arm in arm into town…

Mikasa blinked once, twice, staring as Jean came into sight with two women clinging to either arm, giggling and flirting with him. One, a ditzy-looking blonde, was looking adoringly up at him with limpid blue eyes while the other, a chestnut-haired beauty, was chatting away vivaciously. She noted how both wore the S-bend corset, their blouses with the high collar but covered in lace from the decorte up so that their pushed up breasts showed a good amount of cleavage. Their hair was in that fluffy updo, their dresses in charming pastel colors, the corsets emphasizing their tiny waists and voluptuous hips. The blonde was so very obviously pressing her generous bust into him, rubbing the side of her breast against his arm. And Jean seemed to be enjoying himself, taking it all in stride, as if having two attractive young women latching onto him was the most normal thing in the world.


	3. A Red-Blooded Man

“I...didn’t know what to say. Or do. The women looked so pretty and…,” Mikasa bit her lip, feeling stupid and completely out of her element.

Levi looked at her with raised brows. That morning he was at the naval base currently under construction on the southwestern part of the island. Jean’s battleship was scheduled to dock there in a few days, but not before off-loading some of her cargo at the southern port. The wharves and docks connecting the two ports received tons of cargo each, the dockers handling exotic imports, making robberies very common on the docks.

On a busy day like today a few of the Special Forces, returning from their merchant ship escort duties, sometimes stayed at the southern port to help the military police in case they got their hands full. Many port industries developed alongside the dockyards and Levi, in charge of protecting the merchant marines, was often at the port after each mission. He was preparing to take a tea break when he found Mikasa wandering around the port, looking lost and dejected. He could tell something was wrong. What was she doing there, all dolled up but alone with nowhere to go? 

“You’re shocked to find out he’s got lovers?” he asked to clarify.

“I guess so…” she answered. “I thought...I just thought he’d always...he’d only...that I’d be the only one…” Mikasa blushed. She couldn’t say it, how she just vainly assumed Jean would look only at her, ever. 

“So, did you talk about having an exclusive relationship?”

She shook her head. “No, sir, we never dated. We’re just friends, I think. But I didn’t know he had other women…” She blushed again. _Gosh, I feel so stupid and sound so stupid._

“Don’t be naïve, Mikasa. He was away for a year. In the Navy. He’s a red-blooded man, not a monk.”

Now she felt really foolish. “I suppose he is. I don’t know what I was thinking…”

“Did you write to him about how you feel?” he asked. 

She shook her head, staring into the cup of herbal tea Levi had given her.

“Did you ask him about how he felt?”

She could only shake her head.

“Did you talk in any way about what your relationship was about?” 

Again she shook her head. “I thought...I mean, all these years...he’d always been...I just assumed that...we had an understanding...of sorts…” The more she tried to put her thoughts to words the dumber she felt. 

Levi sighed as he watched her drink the tea. The Ackermanns were known to be poor sods at verbal expression. He was bad, but she was a hopeless case. 

“Look, Mikasa. A man can’t read minds. Not even someone as astute and intelligent as Jean.” 

Mikasa was chewing on this when Caleb Pfeiffer appeared. He was one of Levi’s operators, a team leader in the Special Forces. 

“Chief,” he nodded at Levi. Turning to stare at Mikasa, he whistled. “Whoa, Captain Ackermann, you look gorgeous!” He had never seen her in anything but her Army uniform, or the blue sparring _gi_ she wore when she gave her close-quarter combat masterclasses. 

“Aww, cheers, Caleb,” she smiled at him. 

“Are you meeting someone, ma’am?” he asked.

“I was going to...but…” 

“But she chickened out in the end,” Levi continued for her, saving her from having to explain her embarrassing predicament. “Now help me out here and say something to knock some sense into her and give her the courage she needs.”

Caleb took a flask from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here, this will help.”

Mikasa took a long swig. She felt the alcohol warm up her belly. She took another swig. 

Caleb chuckled, taking the flask away from her. “That’s all you’re having for today, ma’am. Else you’ll be a blubbering mess when meeting your fellow. You should go to him. You look very nice today, it’d be a waste if he doesn’t get to see you. He’s a lucky guy,” he said with kindness. 

“You’re only saying that because your boss made you,” she replied glumly.

“No, ma’am. I do mean it. You look lovely in purple, it brings out the color of your eyes. And your hair looks pretty with those curls. You really should go see him. I can drop you off if you like. Where’s this fellow, chief?” He turns to look at Levi.

“A Navy man. At this time of day, at Nicolo’s tavern most likely.”

“I’m taking the carriage and passing that way. My grandmother’s in the hospital,” he explained to Mikasa. “I got off night duty today to see her.”

As they prepare to leave, Levi helps her onto the carriage and says, “Life is short, Mikasa. Tell Jean how you feel, and if it’s mutual then great. If not, don’t waste the pretty.” She nods gratefully, thanking him for the tea and his time. 

Caleb drops her off at the tavern, but not before she hands him the bouquet. “Give this to your grandmother for me. Tell her it’s from your instructor who’s competent in combat but incompetent at everything else.” 

From the windows she could see that the tavern was full, as always, the din from the crowd mixing with music and dancing from one end of the hall. Mikasa waffles at the entrance. What on earth was she going to say to him? I got all dolled up to meet you at the port with flowers but turns out you’re no longer the Jean I used to know?


	4. The Tavern Where It Began

She paused for a moment. Who, exactly, was the Jean she used to know? She could pinpoint moments when she felt a rush of love for him.

One time it was on a wooden cart by the railroad tracks that they had helped to build. They were discussing the inheritance of the Attack Titan from Eren. _Of course_ she had offered to inherit it. But Jean readily leapt against the idea, enumerating the “too many reasons” why she wasn’t a good candidate. It was as if he’d been thinking about it, the way he was prepared to dissuade her. Instead he offered to take up the titan in that usual cocky way of his. Touched, she wasn’t sure if she was merely imagining the tenderness behind his words. It wasn’t until later that night when Armin confirmed the obvious. “Jean really does love you,” he’d remarked. 

One other time was when Eren had them imprisoned to keep them safe while he fought the Marleyan warriors in the Second Battle of Shiganshina. Jean had keenly felt her suffering, saw her intense pain. “What did Eren do to her?” he’d demanded. Armin had wanted to tell him, but she shushed her best friend. “It’s okay,” she’d insisted, lying through her teeth. Eren had told her how much he hated her. She really did feel like her life was over, her heart hurting so much she felt the shattered pieces would pierce her insides and kill her once and for all. But Jean had given her that look. It was a look filled with compassion. And love. And kindness. “Eren wouldn’t do what he did without a reason,” he pointed out. He gave her hope, offering a tenderness that was like a salve to her battered, beaten, broken heart. Mikasa began to see Jean in an entirely different light from then on.

“After you, ma’am,” said someone to her. A man was holding open the door to the tavern. Snapped out of her reminiscing, Mikasa looked momentarily confused. “Well, are you coming in or not?” the man wanted to know. She thanked him and went in. 

It was warm and raucous inside, and her nose was hit with that peculiar tavern smell: a heady mix of alcohol and tobacco and grilled meat and seafood and sweat and cheap perfume. The large, cavernous main hall had alcoves branching out in either direction.

It was in one of them where she found the Navy men, occupying an entire table. And there he was, Jean Kirschtein, sitting at the head of the table with the blonde she saw at the port nestled in his lap, her arms thrown around his shoulders and her voluminous breasts only inches from his face. She was giggling and whispering into his ear. Obviously he was enjoying himself, laughing and drinking and flirting with her. Mikasa felt a stab of jealousy. She forced her gaze to tear away from them and take in the entire scene. 

It’s said that men don’t really talk to each other, and if someone showed any signs of vulnerability then they were fiercely ridiculed. Yet she’d been a soldier long enough to know that wasn’t true. In a one-on-one environment men had real, honest conversations. But in a group, at a tavern, on a Frīgedæg evening, Jean’s crew were being stereotypical men: singing loudly and burping and bantering and calling each other arseholes. 

Her gaze travelled back to Jean. Her Jean. _Since when did you prefer blondes?_

Mikasa didn’t know what came over her, but she found herself standing next to him. Her gaze was fixed on the blonde. “Get off my man,” she ordered her. Mikasa was Army captain and when she put on that authoritative, unflinching tone, people found themselves obeying. The blonde stood up, scowling at her, but she took in the expression on her face and then glanced at Jean and she understood immediately. 

“You said you were single and available. Liar!” the blonde shrieked at Jean, slapping his cheek before flouncing off to the other end of the tavern to find another lap to sit on. 

Jean was staring at Mikasa with a surprised, quizzical look on his face but before he could say anything she hiked up her skirts and straddled him. Putting a hand on either side of his head, she entwined her fingers into his hair and said to him, loud enough for the rest of the table to hear, “You are mine, Jean Kirschtein.” He opened his mouth to reply but she crushed her lips to his. In a flash Jean had snaked an arm around her waist while his other hand held the back of her head. He coaxed her lips open and she took his tongue in her mouth and they were kissing hungrily as she ground her hips into his. She felt the strength of his arousal and it made her feel attractive and desirable, made her want to grind that tender spot between her thighs back and forth over the hard length of him. Their tongues battle as they kiss and lick and suck each other’s faces. 

The table erupted in a deafening hoo-ha. “Whoa!” the men were boisterous, hollering and chortling, egging them on. “Get a room!” someone shouted. “Don’t go anywhere!” another one squawked. “That’s right, give us a show, admiral!” someone else yelled. “Hey boss! Bend her over the table and take her from behind so we can all enjoy the action!” someone lewdly suggested. 

That last comment jolted Jean’s fuddled brain into awareness, bringing him back to his senses. He stood up, dragging Mikasa with him. An arm tight around her waist, he dug into his satchel and left a wad on the table while he smirked at his men. “Have a great night, lads,” he said cockily, winking at them as he ushered Mikasa toward the door. 

In contrast to the thick, heady smell of the tavern the night air outside was cool and refreshing. Jean was pulling her by the arm and walking fast, away from the noise and the crowds. In the cumbersome dress and heeled shoes she scrambled to keep up. He found a quiet spot under a street lamp, stopped and turned her to face him.

“Bloody hell, Mikasa, what was that all about?” he demanded, the cocky demeanor he put up in front of his men gone and replaced by a confused and angry Jean.

She lowered her lashes and stared at the hem of her dress. “I...went to the port to meet you this afternoon. I brought you flowers but...but…”

“You were at the port? I didn’t see you! Why didn’t you come up to me?” 

“Because you had a woman on each arm, you schmuck!” she found herself retorting in a fit of jealousy, lifting her chin up to meet his gaze with a glare. 

He stared at her. “And what is that to you, Mikasa? Why should that bother you? I’m supposed to be your friend. Don’t you want your friends to have fun?” 

“Well, it wasn’t fun for me!” she heard herself say. She knew she wasn’t making any sense. 

“What the hell do you mean by that?” His gaze was intense.

She wanted to slap his cheek the way the blonde had slapped him in the tavern. “Feign ignorance if you like! I’m going home.” She turned and started walking toward the direction of the southern Army barracks. It was about a half hour walk from the tavern. 

Jean groaned. He must be really drunk. He must be hallucinating. “I’ll walk you to the barracks. But I’m not letting you go until you explain to me what’s going on,” he said, falling into step with her. He grabbed her hand, entwining her fingers with his. To his surprise she squeezed his hand. They start to walk.

“How many women have you slept with?” she found her mouth moving, asking in spite of herself.

“What the fuck, Mikasa?” 

“I want to know,” she glanced at him, glowering.

“You’ve no right to know,” he glowered back.

“Yes, I do.”

“And why’s that?”

She tipped her face up. “Because,” she answered inanely. 

“Because what?”

“Just tell me!” she yelled at him.

“Okay, fine! I shagged a dozen women. Well, twice that if you count the one night stands. Oh, and since your question specifically mentioned women I’ll spare you the number of men I fucked. There. Are you happy now?” he yelled back. He was lying through his teeth: the truth was that as of yesterday he’d slept with far more than that, but from the look on her face he knew she would _not_ be impressed.

“Why should that make me happy?” she retorted, glaring at him, yanking her hand from his.


	5. The Scorecard

He saw the hurt in her eyes. _What the fuck._ He stops her in her tracks, grasping her shoulders so that she faced him. “Hold on. Allow me to jog your memory, Mikasa. When we were eighteen, you told me, in no uncertain terms, that I can only be your friend. That I shouldn’t hope because friendship was the only thing you could offer me in your lifetime and beyond.”

Mikasa remembered that time, when Eren suddenly started being very cold and distant, dismissive of anyone’s attempts to find out what was going on. It was before he left on his own and went AWOL in Marley. Everyone could see how Mikasa was sick with worry and in incredible emotional pain. Jean had confronted her one night. He was in love with her that time. He had always been in love with her and hated to see her suffer. “Why do you do this to yourself?” he had asked her, with all the agony and torment of unrequited love. “If only you’d give me the chance…” 

That was when Mikasa told him about what happened between her and Eren as children, about the bond that was created between them that not even death could break. She had given Eren her heart and had sworn to protect him with her life. Jean had listened intently. “I see,” he’d said, resignation in his voice. “I only have one thing to say. Whenever and wherever you need me, I’ll always be here for you.”

Mikasa remembered that conversation and now felt awful for him. She herself was confused with these new, unfamiliar feelings for Jean that threatened to drive her mad. In the past year she grew up, and everything changed. But she wasn’t prepared for him changing. 

He broke her reverie as he continued, “Therefore, given that we’re only friends, you’re really in no position to act all jealous and hurt about whoever it is I choose to shag and how many of them I shag,” he told her. “Or how often. Or how hard,” he added for good measure. 

She looked at her feet while admitting softly, “I don’t want you sleeping with all those people…”

Jean sighed in exasperation, raking a hand through his hair. “Mikasa, I’m twenty one going on twenty two. I’m a man, in case you haven’t noticed,” he pointed out helpfully. “A man has needs. Surely you understand as much.” 

“Surely you don’t need that many…,” Mikasa found herself retorting despite being aware she sounded like a prude.

“Well, what can I do? They couldn’t wait to get their hands in my pants. Unlike you they’re not immune to my charms!” was the faintly sarcastic reply.

“I don’t want you sleeping with all those people,” she repeated, stubbornly.

 _Aargh, she’s driving me nuts, as usual!_ Jean thought. “Well who do I shag then? You? Hah! As if you’ll let me! That’ll be the day! Just leave me alone and let me plug whomever I please. Meaning people who aren’t as infuriating as you.”

He grabbed her hand again and they continued walking. Her hand clung to his and all of a sudden the painful memories came flooding back.

There were so many things he wanted to tell her. Would she understand the sorry truth behind all the sleeping around he’d done? Would she understand that when Eren died it was like having a huge chunk of his heart ripped out of his chest, and it hurt all the more because he couldn’t tell anyone? That he felt only Marco would have understood, but he was long gone, and the other one who could understand, Sasha, was also gone and he never stopped blaming himself, because if only he’d been more vigilant on the aircraft she wouldn’t have been shot in the first place? That after Sasha died he blamed Eren knowing it would hurt him? But he did it just the same because he wanted to run away from the fact that he was commanding officer therefore what happened under his watch was his responsibility? That when he apologized to Nicolo for having gotten Sasha killed because he let his guard down he felt like a complete and utter failure as a leader? That he felt that way whenever someone died under his command? That during Sasha’s funeral Mikasa disappeared for a short while and he wondered where she was; his eyes searched for her until he spotted her curled up into a ball behind Sasha’s headstone, and by the way her shoulders shook he knew she was weeping as quietly as she could? That that scene was like a dagger through his heart and a part of him died that day? That when he went to train in Noblain and was stationed in the one of the largest and most vibrant port cities on the planet he found plenty of willing lovers who knew nothing of his past and thought him attractive and fuckable, and somehow their desire for him dulled the pain and made him forget--if only momentarily--what a coward he was for not telling the most important people in the world to him how much he cared for them, before it was too late?

Would Mikasa understand if he told her that he used sex to fill the gaping void inside his aching heart? 

_You sound like a pathetic prick,_ he admonished himself. _Don’t be an emo train wreck. Buck the fuck up. You know nothing about pain, Jean Kirschtein. This woman walking beside you? She was born with pain built in._

Mikasa felt the thick wall of silence between them, all the words left unspoken, and she wanted to say something. But she didn’t have the right words to say. She never did. It upset her; the night was lovely and she wished they could just stroll hand in hand and talk. Instead he was walking fast and she had to strive to keep pace. It was like he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. A carriage passed by and suddenly she remembered what Levi told her: _Life is short._ She knew he meant it literally. Paradis had so many enemies it was only a matter of time before their island was sunk into the depths of the ocean. 

“Wait, Jean,” she tugged at his hand. 

He stops in his tracks, brows knitted in frustration. “What now?” 

In reply she takes his other hand and holds them both to her chest. “I want you to know that I’ve come to my senses. I’m all grown up. I’m different now. I...I’d like to be your girl...your woman...” She blushed in embarrassment, gazing shyly up at him through her long black lashes. 

He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, sure you do. You must be drunk. C’mon, let’s get going or you won’t make curfew.” He pulls at her hand and they start walking again.

Now it was her turn to be frustrated. “No, Jean, I mean it.” 

“Right, whatever.” He just kept on walking. 

The frustration rose and her voice rose along with it. “You’re clever. You ought to have figured it out by now.”

“Figured out what by now? That you finally want me after all these years? Bollocks!”

For how could he possibly believe her? Wasn’t she just leading him on? Someone once told him about the power of visualization: you think of what you desire the most, and make it manifest. His biggest desire was for Mikasa to love him back. Visualization? Pure bollocks. He might be hopelessly in love but he was also realistic: he was neutral territory as far as she was concerned. All the years he’d known her she had no reaction to him whatsoever. To her he was good ole Jean: comrade, yes, reliable and trustworthy, yes, skilled soldier, yes. Sexy? No. Desirable? No. Lover? No. Husband? No. She was only capable of loving him in his fantasies. It had been like that for so long he didn’t see why anything should change. 

“I wrote you back!” she said testily.

“Well sure you did! Oh, let me remind you of your last letter. And I quote: 

> ‘We got several new shipments of semi-automatic, medium-caliber rifles the other day, all using the direct blowback system of operation, which I find cumbersome and unfit for combat use. The shipment today was a locked breech, gas-operated semi, apparently in use on the continent, but as I suspected it needs to be shortened and improved. It’s my hope that we get the budget for the bolt-action infantry rifle, the same one they use in Noblain. Do you see those around a lot? I personally wish for a self-loader, possibly chambered for sub-caliber ammunition. By the way, I just came back from a three-day sniper training with the Commandos--I plan to form an Army unit of sharpshooters reknowned for their expert marksmanship and stalking skills, so that we don’t have to rely on Captain Levi’s few operators when push comes to shove. I wore the ghillie suit for the first time but had some kind of allergic reaction to it. No wonder the captain refuses to wear it. As for the sniper rifle I told you about last week, Hange’s team fitted the scope above the barrel for optimal accuracy. I heard that in Cistidu their sniper units are experienced deadly sharpshooters in the trenches, their telescopic sights with high-quality lenses illuminated at night boasting superior accuracy. I hope we never have to face them in war.’ 

“Unquote. Your romantic verses warmed the cockles of my heart!” he said sarcastically.

“You're a gearhead! I thought you’d want to know that kind of stuff!” Mikasa protested, voice rising. “Besides, you’re no poet yourself. Oh, let me remind you of _your_ last letter. And I quote: 

> ‘Due to financial shortages we will have to refit the pre-dreadnoughts we got from Noblain, which will result in a mixed armament, with 12-inch guns but from two different models with dissimilar barrel-lengths. We will have difficulty controlling their fire at long ranges, but such is always the case with these semi-dreadnoughts. With our one dreadnought battleship, which will be our flagship, I have to make a decision about the design of the central citadel: extend a thinner armoured belt and deck to cover the ends of the ship, or extend a tapered armour up outside the hull to cover a larger part of the ship and protect it from high-explosive shellfire. The problem with this is that it makes the main belt very short, protecting a thin strip above the waterline. It would also submerge the armoured belt when the ship is heavily laden. If I had a more generous budget I’d prefer a design with no side protection at all but with a thickened armour belt and deck. This would provide effective protection against ultra-long range engagements. By the way, regarding anti-submarine warfare I wrote about last week, I finally saw my first cruiser mine in action: the standard Luke II mine fitted with a hydrostatic pistol preset for 45 ft firing and effective at 100 ft, launched from a stern platform. Acceptable results but poses a potential hazard to the dropping ship. I hope we never have to face Cistiduan submarines in war.’ 

“Unquote. I asked what was on your mind and that was what you wrote to me!” She found herself yelling against her will.

“Because that was exactly what was on my mind at the time,” he countered, yelling back. “If you had the gumption to replace ‘mind’ with ‘heart’ maybe I would’ve had a clue!”

“Writing you back every week for a year is a clue in and of itself!”

“It’s not the frequency but the bloody content of the letters! I’d have appreciated it if you’d written something like ‘I miss you and can’t wait to see you so I’ll be at the port when you arrive’,” he shot back, explaining why he was upset. “Why was that so hard for you to admit?”


	6. At Last

_Because I was afraid you didn’t miss me as much,_ she wanted to say. _I was afraid that with all the fabled beauties in Noblain that everyone who’s been there keeps on raving about, you’d found someone who could replace me_ , she wanted to say. _I feared that you wanted me only because you couldn’t have me, but now that I’m yours for the taking you’d lose interest,_ she wanted to say. _I fear rejection so much I lie to everyone including myself; I feared that you’d reject me because you’d think I’m only into you now that Eren’s gone, which is not the case at all. But I don’t know how to tell you everything I want to say...I have these thoughts and feelings and words inside my head but when I open my mouth I’m a stammering mess. I’m not like you or Armin: you’re both so articulate. I’ve seen you two discussing all kinds of stuff and I wish I could express myself that way but I can’t. They say I’m worth an entire squadron, but I know I’ve the eloquence of a gerbil. That’s why I kissed you in the tavern: words have forsaken me and all I can do--all I could ever do for as long as I can remember-- was to act,_ she wanted to say.

“Don’t yell at me!” she yelled at him instead.

“You yelled at me first!”

“That’s because you were pretending to be clueless! I mean, I kissed you already, in front of everyone. Can’t you guess what I mean by that? You’re one of the smartest people I know and you’re playing dumb just to drive me crazy!” Mikasa wanted to dig her nails into his palm in vexation.

“You drove me crazy for nine whole fucking years! Have a taste of what it’s like!” 

She bristled. It wasn’t her fault he fell in love with her while she was obsessed with someone else. “Screw you!” 

“Screw you twice!” he retorted.

To her own consternation she found herself yelling, “I wish you would!”

 _Alright, that’s it,_ Jean gritted his teeth. _I’m wasted as fuck and hallucinating. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts._

Mikasa squeaked as he pulled her toward the side of a building. The warmth of him, the musky male scent of him made her tremble as he pinned her and she felt the coldness of the bricks behind her back and the hard wall of his muscular chest press against her breasts. Before she could draw breath his mouth slanted over hers, pushing her head back against the wall as he ruthlessly plundered the depths of her warm mouth. She moaned, tangling her fingers in his ash blond mane, deepening the kiss. His large hands circled her waist, holding her tight against him as their mouths fused into what seemed like an eternal kiss. She felt his erection press against her belly, and found herself wishing her dress wasn’t so layered so she could feel every inch of him.

He broke the kiss and she felt his teeth delicately tug and nibble on her ear lobe while one hand undid the buttons of her blouse. “You’re exquisite, Mikasa,” he breathed into her ear. She whimpered as the tugging sensation on her ear and a large, calloused hand capturing and palming a breast caused an itch between her thighs. 

“I’m going to take you right here, right now. I’m going to push up your skirts and spread your sweet thighs open as I fuck your wet pussy. Is that what you want, Mikasa?” he murmured into her ear, enjoying the feel of her nipples hardening against the pads of his fingers. 

She moaned, holding his head against her chest as he bent to suckle on a nipple while his other hand started lifting the skirts and petticoats of her dress. She gasped as she felt a hand caress her inner thigh before nudging between them, tenderly rubbing the length of her pussy, pushing the fabric of her knickers into her wet folds. He smirked when he found out how wet she was, the moistness and heat from her core dampening his fingers. 

“Jean...wait...not here...someone might see us,” she protested weakly. The light from a nearby street lamp lit his face and she saw the amusement in his eyes, heard his husky laughter. 

“Ah, sweet Mikasa, eager to be fucked and only worried about being seen.”

“No, I meant…” she protested, realising too late how wanton her words sounded. 

He smirked. “I know what you meant, gorgeous. You’re shy and want to be fucked in the dark.” He all but carried her a few yards away from the street lamp. Soon he was kissing her again, touching her everywhere, feeling her shiver, hearing her moan. He knelt before her, putting his head under her skirts, pulling down her knickers to press hot, languid kisses along the length of her quivering thighs. 

Mikasa threw her head back, one hand holding up her own skirts to give him access to her heated flesh, the other hand brushing fingers through his hair, encouraging him. Her entire body was on fire as she waited in breathless anticipation, panting softly as she felt his mouth kiss closer and closer to the molten heat between her thighs. Something stirred deep inside her, a profound lust and longing for this man other women called a hunk, a stud, a stallion. 

“Jean,” she gasped his name, blushing as she felt his breath blow on the raven curls above her pussy lips. She blushed even harder as she heard him groan while inhaling her scent. 

“Mikasa, you’re beautiful beyond words,” he said in reply, voice muffled by her skirts. She moaned as she felt his long fingers gently part the slippery folds of her pussy. For a moment she felt a rush of shyness and wanted to close her legs, but Jean’s broad, muscular shoulders were wedged firmly between them. She shuddered at the tenderness of his exploration. All she could do was whimper as his tongue pressed into her damp flesh, licking the full length of her slit, delving into the wet folds, tasting every drop. 

“Jean!” she cried out, biting her lip to keep from screaming, her body jerking as she felt a finger plunge into her tight sheath, probing the heated furnace. She arched her back as his mouth sucked on her pulsing nub, his finger moving in and out of her, intimately caressing her. He licked the length of her pussy again, then gently bit her clit with his lips. Mikasa rolled her head from side to side, mindless with need. He licked and bit, plucked and tweaked, altering the pressure and placement each time, all the while finger fucking her. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and covered her mouth with an arm while she screamed in pleasure as she came, the tension released from her belly, bathing her in a warm heat. “Jean, Jean, Jean,” she said his name over and over, clinging to him for dear life because her legs felt like jelly. 

He stood up, pulling her trembling body tight against his, one hand holding her bottom and the other across her back, supporting her. He recaptured her mouth in a searing kiss. Whimpering, she lashed back at his tongue in her mouth, closing her eyes as she tasted herself on him. He leaned her against the wall, pulling her skirts up with one hand while taking out his raging cock with the other. Her lashes flew open when she felt the hardness of him against her, nudging her thighs open. Jean’s cock was huge, pulsing and jerking, the heat of it melting her as he rubbed his length between her drenched pussy lips. It felt so good she wished he’d just grind against her like that. 

But after a few moments he shifted, and she tried to quell the panic rising within her as she felt his hands grasp and lift her bottom, slamming her against the wall before pinning her there with his lower body. His grip on her was firm as he ordered, “Wrap those sexy legs around me.”

Her arms around his neck, her heaving breasts crushed into the solid expanse of his chest, she did as he commanded. _Don’t panic, don’t panic, you want this,_ she tried to reassure herself. He was kissing her again, hard and relentless. She tore her mouth from his when she felt him prodding the opening of her dripping pussy. 

“Jean, wait, please...I’ve never...I’ve never…”

He groaned in agony, willing himself to keep still. “What?” 

In the dim glow of the distant street lamp she looked into his eyes. “It’s my first time, Jean…” she whispered. “You’re so big and I’ve never...please...be gentle…go slow...please don’t hurt me...”

 _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck,_ Jean thought as her panicked voice jolted him back to reality. Wasn’t this just a dream? In his dreams he had fucked her up against the wall a thousand times and she was always eager, screaming for more, begging him to never stop as he took her again and again.

“Mikasa,” he moaned her name, gazing into her eyes. “Is it really you? Are we in the real world?”

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. “It’s me, Jean. It’s Mikasa. Your Mikasa.”

He let out a long, labored breath, fighting for control, lowering her down from the wall. She slipped her trembling legs to the ground, whimpering as she watched him put her clothes back in order. She couldn’t help but gasp in wide-eyed shock at the size of his erect penis, and then hurriedly averted her eyes as he unceremoniously stuffed the still turgid shaft back into his breeches. 

Taking her hand, he pulled her under the streetlamp so that he could get a good look at her. His hands cupped her face, tilting her eyes up. “You’ve never had sex before?” he asked, incredulous. 

“No, Jean. You’re my first...”

He stared at her. He’d simply assumed that she and Eren…well, apparently not. “And you really do want to have sex with me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, feeling stupid but unable to help himself. _I shouldn’t have fucking downed all that booze._

“You’re Jean Kirschtein. I’m Mikasa Ackermann. And I’m in love with you,” she stated. There, she said it. Levi would be proud.

“Come here.”

Pulling her to him, Jean wrapped his arms around her. He forced his mind to focus on the scent of her hair, on her fingers pressed into the muscles of his back. He was letting the reality of her sink into his bones. He tightened his hold, feeling her warm weight, testing her solidity.

With his chin resting atop her head he said, “Listen, Mikasa. I’ve been drinking since sundown and my brain’s smashed. I think I’m hallucinating because this is too good to be true. But this is all real, isn't it? You know I’ve loved you for nearly a decade. I don’t want your first time--our first time together--to be in a dark alley on the streets with a brick wall against your back. I’d want it to be sweet for you, and special and lovely. I don’t want to take you in a drunken stupor. Because I bloody love you. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He pulled away a little so that he could look at her face. 

She smiled up at him, nodding her understanding. Her eyes welled up; he bent his head to kiss away the tears. She wrapped her arms tight around his waist while he held her shoulders and the back of her head, stroking her hair. Folding inside the loving cradle of his arms, she sighed into his chest, feeling as if she’d always been there. It was like finding a harbor safe and warm. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that but she knew she never wanted to leave the warmth and strength and tenderness of his embrace. 

After some time she said, “I missed you, Jean. I’m so glad you’re back.” 

“Happy to be home. Did I tell you how gorgeous you look tonight?”

She smiled up at him. “You’re looking gorgeous yourself.” Resting the palm of her hands on his muscular chest she remarked appreciatively, “You’ve grown bigger. What did they feed you in Noblain?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Must be the 18-hour workdays that did it.” He wraps his arms around her waist and she moves hers around his neck. For a while they simply gaze at each other, smiling, forgetting the world around them. 

But time doesn’t stand still. The clattering of hooves as carriages hurry passengers home was too hard to ignore. “Shit, your curfew,” he finally said. 

Her eyes looked questioningly up at him. “Will you head to the naval base after seeing me off? You’re not going back to the tavern for that blonde trollop, are you?” she asked, hating herself for being such a jealous bitch.

He laughed in amusement, touching her nose with the tip of his finger. “Says the raven trollop who straddled me and let herself be tongue fucked by me in front of my crew.” 

She bit her lip, looking chastised. He laughed again, pinched her cheek and said, “I’ll go straight to the Navy barracks. Alone. I promise.”

They walked hand in hand until the Army barracks was within sight. But they didn’t want to separate just yet. Jean pulled her into the safety of another building wall. One more kiss, just one last kiss before they say goodnight. Soon their bodies were entwined as they go at each other with wet, open mouth kisses. She was moaning and thrusting her pelvis, standing on tiptoes to press her hips against his, wanting to feel his hardness against her softness. 

“Jean, please, do that again…” she begged him, blushing.


	7. Too Precious

He was kissing the flushed skin of her neck and throat. “Do what again?” he murmured.

“A while ago when you...rubbed your...your thing...against my...my place…” 

He could feel her blush even harder. _She’s so adorable,_ he thought, laughing at her embarrassment. “Mikasa, they’re called cock and pussy, among other things.” He was happy to oblige, however, pulling up her skirts. 

Mikasa moaned at the delicious sensation of his huge, rock hard length gliding over her wet pussy lips. Her legs wrapped around his waist, she reveled in the feel of his warm hands kneading her ass cheeks. It felt good, so good when the head of his cock rubbed again and again over her engorged clitoris. She jerked each time, feeling pulses of pleasure, like small fireworks from within. 

Jean was panting, his brows knitted in concentration. _She’s so fucking hot, so fucking wet. Make her cum, make her scream._ Faster and faster he ground his turgid shaft between her slippery folds. Then he slowed down, making her whimper in protest. Soon he was grinding against her once more with an intense speed. Fast and slow, slow and fast. 

She couldn’t stop moaning, writhing against him as his large hands painfully gripped her bottom. Sparks of sensation were building up inside her, swirling, threatening to burst. “Jean! Aaaagh!” she pressed her mouth into his shoulder to muffle her own scream as she felt a hot burst of pleasure, the orgasm washing over her, making her whimper and tremble and buck against him. 

He jerked as he felt her hot pussy juices flowing, bathing his cock. _Take her right here. Fuck her brains out. Fuck her until she can’t walk and you’ll have to carry her into the barracks._ All he had to do was lunge at an angle and he’d be deep inside her. He was painfully hard and his libido demanded release. He was nearly blinded by need, but the rational part of him saw there were people passing by only a few yards away. They were in a dank alley and he was totaled. Far from the best timing to fuck the love of his life for the first time. 

His vision cleared when he felt her press sweet little kisses on his face while her long, warm fingers caressed the back of his neck. “Thank you, Jean,” she breathed, smiling shyly at him. He lowered her legs to the ground, the fabric of her skirts falling over her thighs, covering her up. She looked up at him with her jewel-like, violet eyes. “That felt so good. So good,” she told him, burying her blushing face into his chest. The simple, contented, innocent way she said it brought him back to his senses. 

_You think that’s it, don’t you? You really have no idea, my sweet, beautiful Mikasa._

He watched her face as she became aware again of his hardness poking at her and she fell back from him a little, staring at his engorged penis. The expression on her face was a mixture of shock and awe and fascination. Instinctively she reached out and gingerly held his cock in both her hands, murmuring softly, “Oh gods, it’s so big. How can anyone be this big?” 

“You’ll get used to it, angel,” he smirked, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, adding firmly, “You’ll learn to love it.”

Glancing at him with trepidation she started to go down on her knees in an attempt to give him head, but Jean stopped her. She seemed unsure of what to do and he didn’t want her gagging and choking on a dingy back street. “No, Mikasa, not here, not now. You’ll ruin your pretty dress,” he said, holding her up by the waist. The alley was damp with puddles of water, with litter here and there. Who knows what small creatures scurried about in the dark? 

Softly she stroked his swollen shaft with her hands, the pussy juices coating it serving as lubrication. Jean noted how her touch was too gentle and uncertain, as if she was afraid of hurting him. He saw her eyes searching his, asking him what she should do. “Make me cum with your hands,” he instructed, putting his own hands over hers and demonstrating the stroke and speed and pressure he liked. “Yes, yes, just like that. Keep that up, Mikasa. Aaagh,” he groaned in pleasure. He could feel her hands gaining more confidence as her gaze flicked from his face to his pelvis. 

Mikasa rhythmically stroked Jean’s rock hard cock, marveling at the incredible size and shape and smell of it. In the back of her mind she wondered how anyone could take in such a huge thing, and the naughty thought made her wet pussy even wetter. She felt his lips brush hers and she opened her mouth for him. She moaned upon feeling his hands fondle her breasts, pinching her nipples. How it was even possible she couldn’t imagine, but the cock between her hands grew even thicker. 

“I'm almost there, Mikasa. Don’t stop,” he groaned, feeling his body tense from his knees to his shoulders. Her strokes were tender and firm and urgent all at the same time. Next time he’ll teach her how to vary the strokes and play with his balls and the head of his cock, but tonight just having Mikasa’s fingers around his shaft was magic enough. Her hands felt so warm and loving and she was looking up at him with those beautiful dark eyes. “Mikasa, Mikasa...I’m coming...Aaargh!” he groaned, his entire body shuddering. 

She watched in fascination as he spilled rope after rope of cum onto the ground. Not sure whether she should stop, she kept on stroking him, watching his face as he threw his head back and his eyeballs rolled back into his skull. He was panting, with a sated look on his face. She herself shuddered in elation upon learning of her ability to give him pleasure. 

When he opened his eyes he found her licking her fingers. She’d caught some of his cum in her hand and was tasting him. 

“You don’t have to, Mikasa,” he said.

“I want to,” she replied, smiling up at him, adding, “You taste like tears...silky tears.”

Soon they were kissing hungrily again, devouring each other with their mouths. She found that making him come aroused her and felt the pussy juices run down her thighs and now all she wanted to do was press herself against him and feel his hardness once more. Standing on tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with passion, her hips rocking on their own accord against his. 

With his hands firmly gripping her ass cheeks Jean speared his tongue into her mouth. He felt the movements of her hips, and knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. It would be easy, so easy to just fuck her then and there. He was inflamed again, his cock hard again, and he knew that she would willingly open her thighs for him if he made the move. In his mind lust battled with reason as he kissed her. He leaned with his back against the wall, one leg bent so that the foot rested flat on the wall while the knee jutted at an angle. With a hand on the small of her back he raised her skirts and guided her so that her creamy thighs straddled his bent leg, her steamy labia mashing against his thigh.

“That’s it, grind yourself against me, make yourself cum on my leg,” he encouraged her. She was innocent yet hot and wanton at the same time, her body so responsive it amazed him; Jean was so turned on he struggled with his own desire to rut into her. 

Mikasa moaned, moving her hips back and forth against his leg, whimpering as her wet slit pressed hard into his thigh muscles. Her pussy lips were forced apart and small cries tore from her throat as the friction from the fabric between them rubbed against her engorged clitoris. She felt his hands grab her ass cheeks, squeezing them as he helped pace her gliding motions against his thigh. He was kissing and sucking on the delicate skin of her neck. Entwining her fingers into his hair she caressed his nape as she rocked her hips, seeking release.

“Jean, please, I need to...please…,” she was mindlessly babbling, grinding her dewy cunt lips hard against him. 

Jean made vibrating motions with his leg, groaning at the feel of her wet heat. He bent his head, capturing a breast with his mouth then sucking hard and biting on the nipple while pinching and pulling on the other one with his thumb and forefinger. Mikasa felt lightning strike from her breasts to her pussy and she came, hips jerking.

“Aaaagh!” she moaned, throwing her head back as her hot pussy juices drenched his thigh. He held her waist and bottom to support the weight of her trembling body, reveling in the sweet sound of her soft panting as she rested her forehead on his chest. After some moments she tipped her face to look into his eyes. “Oh Jean, that was really good,” she murmured, sighing contentedly. 

Jean gazed at her beautiful face, fighting with his urges as he kissed her fervently. _Mikasa, you winsome thing, that’s just the beginning, the tip of the iceberg. Now I’ll ram all the way into you and show you just how far and deep the pleasure can go. Wait, not here, not like this, you drunken asshole!_ The horny rake and the gallant knight inside him battled for superiority. It was the clanging from the bell tower that made the interim decision for him. _Shit, it’s this late already?_ She moaned in protest when he broke the kiss. 

Jean held his raging erection in check as he walked her to the gates of the officer’s barracks. _Fuck her tonight, drag her to a dark alley nearby and just screw her senseless. Take her like a common whore, punish her for the nine years of torture_ , said the animal part of him. _Shut up, she’s precious, she’s a treasure, you’re goddamn inebriated_ , argued the gentleman in him. The inner battle continued. His tense face was a picture of conflicting emotions.

She looked up at him, then down at the huge tent jutting from his hips, noticing the pained expression on his face. “Jean, I can do that again...touch you there again…” 

_You don’t understand, sweet angel. Your hands won’t do anymore. I fear I can’t control myself much longer. I need to be balls deep inside you fucking you as brutally as you can bear_ , he thought grimly. “Shh, angel, it’s alright. I just need to sleep off the booze. We’ll talk tomorrow. Goodnight.” He kissed her forehead.

She was trying to embrace him, wanting to comfort him the way he’d taught her, pressing that hot body of hers against him. _Damnit_ , he struggled with his control, deliberately backing away from her.

“Jean…”

“Go,” he commanded through gritted teeth. His eyes were pools of frustration as he fought to master his urges. 

She stared at him with eyes wide and mouth half open. He had a wild look on his face and it scared her. Her hands tried to reach for him. “Jean, please let me…” 

“Go before I change my mind and tear into you like a rutting beast!” he growled at her.

She fled through the gates without a backward glance.


	8. Dreams Come True

Mikasa and Jean did get to talk the following day, on a balmy Sunnûnâband afternoon. He spent the morning nursing a nasty hangover at work but by afternoon he couldn’t wait to see her again. His brain had cleared and was bright as could be but there was a small voice at the back of his mind questioning everything that happened the night before. Mikasa in love with him? That was like saying all of Paradis’ enemies decided to become allies and they could now live in peace. A ludicrous fantasy. 

His worries were laid to rest when at exactly three in the afternoon, their agreed meeting time, he heard a woman call out his name, “Jean!” 

And there she was, Mikasa, waving her hand. She ran, not walked, across the platform and flew straight into his arms. He grinned from ear to ear, embraced her and twirled her around and around. They were laughing and hugging, and when he cupped her face in his hands to kiss her she stood on tiptoes and pressed her body to his, kissing him back hard, her tongue seeking his. Jean knew then that what he feared he imagined happened the night before was all real. Today everything faded in the background as they melted into each other's arms. 

There was no pretty purple dress, no flowers, no silk gloves, no frilly hat, no lacey blouse or heeled shoes. That morning Mikasa brought the fancy clothes she borrowed to the dry cleaners as Mrs Hitch Schulze said she needed them back for tea in a couple of days with her uppity mother-in-law. With nothing else nice to wear Mikasa put on her old familiar outfit of drab grey and white. She and Jean agreed to meet at the port the next day and “redo” their messed up welcome home fiasco the way both of them dreamed it should be. 

How good it felt, how liberating and pleasurable it was to run up to and embrace your beloved, minus the shyness and uncertainty and doubt. On her way to the port Mikasa fretted over her shabby attire and small breasts and lack of hairdressing skills, but she soon found out that in Jean’s arms none of them mattered. In his eyes it was clear that she could have worn a potato sack and still be, to him, the most beautiful girl in the world. A penniless soldier and orphan from the impoverished countryside, she was but a simple country girl. All she could offer was her smile and the love in her heart. To Jean that was more than enough. She was perfection and everything he ever wanted. 

“Lucky, lucky me,” Mikasa thought as her heart fluttered under his intense, loving gaze and she got lost in their torrid kiss.

Wrapping up the day’s work Corey Feldman, Jean’s _aide-de-camp_ , rolled his eyes upon spotting the two sucking face in the middle of the port, completely oblivious to the hustle and bustle around them. It was the raven-haired beauty who stormed the tavern last night. He shook his head. From the way his boss slept around in Noblain he had no idea there was a girl waiting for him in Paradis. In Jean’s defense sometimes women, and not a few men, threw themselves at him, tall handsome devil that he was. They didn’t even seem to mind he was Eldian.

Feldman assumed Jean would simply remain the proverbial stud and only settle down against his will, like when he’d accidentally knocked up some girl who wanted to rope him in. But he glanced at the couple down below and the way they were at it Jean obviously wanted to be roped in by this particular girl. Well, maybe he’s decided to keep this one now that they were home for good. _All the better,_ Feldman thought, _what after those scandals he got involved in while at Noblain._

“Hey boss!” he shouted from the ship’s deck, “Get a room, for heaven’s sake, and stay there!” 

The newly minted couple were chastised enough to leave the port and finally have The Talk within the privacy of four walls. A talk followed by a kissfest, and plenty of oral sex. On a proper bed they took their sweet time, licking and sucking and exploring, lovingly discovering each other’s bodies. Afterwards they rested in each other’s arms and talked for hours.

Jean didn’t jump her bones: he wanted to go through the courtship ritual, the whole romance rigamarole. So he took her out dancing, brought her flowers, surprised her with little gifts, took her to the theatre where they held hands the entire length of the play. He held her hand as they shopped for groceries; he engaged her in funny yet meaningless conversations; he took her to an outdoor concert and they listened to the music while leaning their heads together. He cut his drinking to one serving per day so that he could enjoy her company with a clear head, especially the teenage make-out sessions, the ones he’d fantasized about as a boy and could now finally turn into reality. 

Mikasa, new to being romanced, was initially overwhelmed by the attention, but she kept Levi’s words close to heart: _Life is short_. She decided to open up her heart to Jean, to accept and reciprocate all the love he had to give. And when she did she found joy and laughter and hope. It was like opening the heavy drapes over the window that was her heart and letting the sunshine in.

Eventually they had to do the deed, and it came three weeks later, Jean having planned it to be as romantic as he could possibly muster, with a candlelit dinner and walk along the beach and then a night on a sailboat he and his crew lavishly decorated for the occasion. With the stars twinkling up above he proposed. With tears in her eyes she said yes and a boat-rocking fuckfest followed.

They agreed to elope the following day, but when Jean took Mikasa to see his mother, Mrs Kirschtein was pleased yet adamant they held a proper wedding. 

After they got engaged they visited their parents’ resting places to pay their respect and tell them the good news. They laid flowers on the graves of Mr and Mrs Ackermann; Mr and Mrs Jaeger, Mikasa’s adoptive parents; and Mr Kirschtein, Jean’s long-gone father who passed away in a carriage accident when he was still a toddler. He could barely remember him, but was nevertheless thankful for his bringing him into this world. They also visited the graves of Erwin, Marco, Sasha...there were so many. It took them the entire day to do the rounds.

Last but certainly not the least they visited the grave of the man who made it possible for them to be together. “He died so that we might live,” said the inscription on the headstone, glowing a golden orange from the rays of the setting sun. Mikasa wept in remembrance of the boy who gave her a reason to live and whom she had loved from the very beginning with every fibre of her being; Jean wept in remembrance of the bittersweet, complicated bond he and Eren had, a relationship he treasured because he knew it made them both into better men. Today they were once again filled with gratitude for Eren’s sacrifice that gave them this new lease on life, this chance at happiness. 

Jean laid his hand on the titan shifter’s gravestone. “We love you, Eren,” he said, “more than you could ever know.”

Putting her hand over his, Mikasa added, “We miss you, Eren, more than you could ever know.”

When Eren was sixteen he’d told them they were the most important people in the world to him. They knew he had meant every word. As they knelt before his grave they said in their hearts, “We shall never forget you, Eren Jaeger. Watch over us, wish us well.”

The two married three months later, ten years to the day Jean first laid eyes on Mikasa and became totally smitten. It was an Army-Navy coupling that everyone approved of, a love story a decade in the making.

Levi, who as a rule despised all kinds of social functions including weddings, was in a rare good mood during the Ackermann-Kirschtein nuptials. His best friend Hange sat next to him and they had a great time devising backhanded compliments for the wedding guests who were senior officers in the military. Both of them had a soft spot for the graduates of the 104th cadet corps; there were only four of them left now and they were genuinely fond of them. They were good kids, if not the best.

Armin was there, grinning from ear to ear. Queen Historia was also there, completely delighted. So joyful were they for the newlyweds they each gave a speech that made the new mister and missus blush in its effusive praise for them. Afterwards they took turns dancing with them, once, twice...who’s counting anymore? 

Levi watched as the one other Ackermann smiled and laughed all throughout the wedding festivities. She looked radiant, this formerly gloomy, rebellious brat, and it made him congratulate himself. Surely the Special Forces ought to be commended for bringing the young couple together. Jean was in the highest of spirits, looking so happy you’d think he won the lottery. Levi glanced at Caleb Pfeiffer, merrily flirting with some Army babes at a table nearby. He decided he wouldn’t mind an Army-Special Forces wedding for his operator.

Mikasa gazed adoringly up at her husband and Jean gazed back at her with equal adoration. Levi approved greatly: happy soldiers and seamen made better fighters. When you had something precious to lose you fought harder, thought smarter, planned more carefully. He needed these two to be as sharp and as prepared as they could possibly be. Because Levi felt that this interim peace they had was about to end. Following their short honeymoon Jean had his work cut out for him as their Navy’s highest ranking officer, and Mikasa would soon branch off from the Army to form the Royal Marines, the infantry arm of the Navy. 

Soon there will be a war, and he and Jean and Mikasa, leaders of their military, will have to strategize and plot and scheme and then fight in the frontlines. 

“Please, Captain Levi, come dance with us!” The smiling newlyweds suddenly appear in front of him, jolting him from his reverie. Even when he was now brigadier they still called him captain in tones brimming with fondness and history when they wanted to wrangle something out of him: a dance this time. Levi scowls at the hands they hold out. “Capta---in!” they wheedle in unison. Hange pokes him not-so-gently in the ribs until eventually he gives in, favoring the couple with a rare half-smile. They beam at him and pull him onto the dance floor.

Amidst the youthful laughter and glow of young love Levi had fretted to Hange about feeling old. He felt he had lived a thousand years. 

“Captain, thank you,” Mikasa was saying to him. “Thank you for everything.”

“We could’ve never reached this far without you,” Jean was saying. “We owe you big, captain.”

“You brats have drunk too much again,” he replies grumpily, but underneath the pissed-off facade he was smiling. 

“All these rambunctious brats make me feel ancient,” he had remarked to Hange as they watched the revelry from the sidelines.

“Ancient? What in the world are you talking about? We’re fit as a fiddle! We’ve got decades to go!” Hange had countered with their trademark enthusiasm. “Just look at them, Levi. How many of these kids have made it this far and actually gotten married? It’s a new dawn for all of us!”

On the dance floor Levi gazes at Jean and Mikasa, feeling the warmth and energy and love in the hands they clasped to his. He looks around the room, at all the faces full of joy and hope, and he is filled with a new purpose. _To help out these brats I might as well live a few hundred more_. 

Ancient? Nah, Hange was right. Life has just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it for this story! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am truly grateful to all who have read this far, especially to those who’ve been generous enough to leave comments. I’ve said this before but I’m saying it again: your words mean a lot to me, they’re a source of joy and encouragement and inspiration. Thank you so, so much! xoxo - hana


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